


Fifth of Six

by KiwiKat_Writes



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Gen, Henry - Freeform, Katherine Howard Had A Bad Life, Katherine Howard- A Study, Katherine's Past Sucked, The first half of the chapter is kinda a character study and the second half is hurt-comfort, Went from angst to crack real quick, and thomas 2k20, francis - Freeform, i have a Gift, ish, it gave me whiplash, katherine howard deserved better, kill henry, no beta we die like k.howard, wow what's with me and making angst into crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiKat_Writes/pseuds/KiwiKat_Writes
Summary: Writing for SiX is always funThanks for reading! If you enjoyed, leave a comment down below and check out my other SiX stories! (if you want to)See yall around, you beautiful kiwis!
Comments: 3
Kudos: 77





	Fifth of Six

Katherine closed her eyes and swallowed. The heavy chains around her wrists clanked with every step on the cobble, a block set in the middle of a courtyard. The crowd surrounding was silent, every eye trained on her. She felt Francis Dereham’s eyes, now a member of the court, sweep her body one last time. Despite herself, she flinched back at the familiar, terrifying sensation. 

The guard leading her stopped, then her shoulders were pushed down. Taking the silent prompt, she sunk to her knees and gracefully leaned down, turning her head and setting her cheek on the bloodied block. Someone had been beheaded directly before her, a maid suspected to know of the ‘affair’ now dead. Katherine had not been privy to the execution. 

The man standing by her head was reading out a list of her wrongs. She shut her eyes, feeling a rogue tear slip out of the corner and trail cold wetness over the bridge of her nose. 

First it had been Henry Mannox, cornering her in the music studio after a lesson. 

_ ‘Miss Howard, I have a new assignment for you.’ _

He had had his way with her, and as she left the room hours later with an aching scalp, he spoke once again.

_ ‘Tell no one. Who would believe a young thirteen-year-old’s word? It’ll be easier if you just let nature take its course. We have a connection- can’t you feel it?’ _

She’d tried. She’d tried so hard to feel this ‘connection’, but felt nothing. She had told her parent, but he just laughed her off, told her she was just begging for attention, and ignored the way she’d wince as he ruffled her hair, or the way her face contorted the tiniest bit whenever she took a step.

After a year of hellish ‘music’ lessons she was freed by her grandmother, in a twisted, roundabout way. At her grandmother’s house, she was lectured along with tens of other young ladies on how to be a proper woman.

Then, during the night, a man named Francis Dereham would lock up the rooms as the ladies slept. And, before he locked up, he would walk through the room and check on all of the girls.

Katherine had been trying to sleep one night when Dereham’s footsteps stopped, right by her bed. She had laid still, pretending to sleep, as hands shoved their way under her blankets and grasped her. The next day, she was called into his office.

She didn’t miss the way he clicked the lock shut behind her.

And so for three years, the days progressed as such. Her wrist was perpetually sore, as was her throat. 

_ ‘Hush, Katherine. You wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re weak, would you? We’re connected, we’ve had a connection.’ _

Then the unthinkable happened.

She, Katherine Howard, entered the court! She was the lady-in-waiting to Anna of Cleves, a beautiful German woman with dark skin and chocolate hair. Whenever she would dance with her, Katherine felt alive. Her soul, weighed down by the sins committed against her, finally flew as high as her happiness did.

Then Anna of Cleves was divorced. And Henry had his eye on her. And, once again, she was thrown into that life of pain and uncertainty she had tried so hard to leave behind. By day, she would walk the palace halls and gardens meekly in fear of the night; by night, she’d fear for the wellbeing of her body and the pain of the next morning. It was a vicious cycle, only broken by Thomas Culpeper’s visits. The man quickly became a rock for her, a solid patch in the tumultuous sea of court and Henry and Henry’s sleazy friends that would eye her up and lick their lips. 

He kept her safe, kept her sane. Stopped her from falling apart.

Then, one day, when they met to talk about their life, he moved over to the door and locked it.

_ ‘Come on, Katherine. We have a connection, you and I!’ _

She was starting to hate that word. 

And it continued. Once a week or so, she’d quietly walk to Thomas’ office under the guise of tea together. Once a week, the lock would click shut, sliding her doom into place.

A month later, she was racing down the hall to the main room of the palace, sliding to her knees at Henry’s feet and bending in half, screaming and begging for her very life.

Then she was dragged away by the guards and thrown into a dank room in the Tower, the heads of past transgressors decorating the walls.

That night, the head of Thomas Culpeper was stationed at her window, head turned inward so it looked like lifeless eyes were watching her every move. Thomas Culpeper, even in death, tormented her.

And the sad, sorry tale of her life would end today. At the mere age of seventeen, she would die. 

Did Anne Boleyn feel this pure terror and pain, when she was beheaded? Would her cousin, dead for decades, understand the emotions raging through her veins, turning her brain into a mush of fear, confusion, pain _ - _

The executioner swayed on his feet as he positioned himself, his rank body odor and the stench of alcohol burning her nose. He raised the ax, then before she knew it there was burning pain radiating from the back of her neck and she was biting straight through her lip and screaming through clenched teeth because it hurt so much shouldn’t she be dead already-

The ax was raised and smashed down on her pale neck once again, and she felt, with abject terror, all sensation to her body fade. A hand gripped mocha hair close to her abused scalp, lifting her head.

The last thing she saw was a crowd, silently awaiting the moment her head stops gasping for breath and her eyes grow glassy.

  
  
  


Then she was waking up with something soft yet hard on her back, gasping for breath that actually entered her lungs. She shot upright in her panic, stumbling a bit and knocking… something off a table. It crashed on the floor, and she flinched away from the sound, colliding with the hard-soft thing again. Every inch of her body felt  _ wrong _ , like she had been pulled apart and pushed back together. Her breath quickened and got louder as she panicked, barely managing to curl up into a ball. A door clicked open, and then there were hands on her biceps and pulling her out of her little ball, one moving to her back. It rubbed steady circles into her shoulder blades, and the other gripped her bicep and helped ground her. Voices were shouting to each other over her head, and then a weight settled on her shoulder.

Oh.  _ Oh. _

That was nice. It pressed on her tensed muscles in all the right ways, grounding her spirit back in her body and soothing her breathing. The room quieted, until there was only one pair of hands, gently grasping her forearms. As her brain calmed down, she hazarded opening her eyes.

Familiar, intelligent, glinting black eyes were the first thing she saw.

Anna of Cleves looked back at her with a calm face, her lips parted in a gentle smile.

“Hey there,  _ meine kleine rose _ .” Katherine felt relief, all-encompassing, crash over her in a wave and she followed the path of the tide, lunging forward into Anna’s chest and sobbing into the thin fabric covering her skin. The arms that had held her loosely while dancing, tightly in the cold of night, and cupped her back while she was dipped so low that the loose strands of her hair touched the floor, now encircled her.

And, for the first time since Anna left, she felt safe.

  
  


Jane passed the mug of tea to Cathy, the writer nodding to her and staring into the dark depths of her Earl Gray like it held the secrets of writing in its depths. Anne was pacing the length of the living room, occasionally tugging at strands of her hair. Aragon was kneeling in her prayer corner, lips forming words that Jane couldn’t hear. The Tudor mother settled in the maroon armchair that she had gotten a month ago.

Jane had been the second to appear. First had been Catherine of Aragon; after her, Jane. Anne and Parr appeared on the same day, and Anna had been the last, about a month ago. There had been tension in the air almost every morning.

Jane would turn to address someone that wasn’t there, the name ‘Kitty’ on the tip of her tongue. Anne would turn and elbow the air next to her excitedly, before realizing she was only elbowing air. Catalina would raise her arm just a little bit, as if to let someone smaller than the other queens snuggle into her side. Parr would be writing and automatically move her lap desk up, as if someone laid across her lap. Anna would be alone, and when she thought no one was looking she’d extend her hand, as if in a ballroom and someone asked to dance with her.

Then the vase in the attic room had crashed, and Jane was out of her seat, her knitting flying, and up the stairs. Anne streaked from her own room after her, and even Parr set her writing down and followed. They got up to the room. Anna was at the door already, and when she saw Jane she threw the door open.

Her profile changed rapidly, going from cold anger at the presumed intruder to a mix of shock and disbelief. She rushed into the room, and Jane was quick to follow.

When she entered the room, she saw Anna holding a wom-no, a girl up. The girl on the floor’s breathing was rough, ragged, and way too fast. Anne had disappeared as soon as she saw the girl, but now she pushed past Jane, with her weighted blanket almost getting ripped out of her hands by Anna.

Then she and Parr had been shooed out of the room by Anne, who looked like she didn’t even want to leave.

And here they were. Waiting for news on the girl from upstairs. 

“Okay, okay, just  _ seien sie hier vorsichtig _ , there you go…” Anna’s voice floated from the stairs.

Anne stopped her pacing. Cathy’s head snapped up and tea splashed onto her wrist, making her wince. Aragon whipped around, and Jane set her knitting down again.

Anna came into view, and under her arm was the girl. Mocha hair hung in front of her face, and just barely visible, peeking out over her collarbone, was a thick band of scar tissue. 

Behind Jane, Anne gasped quietly. 

Cathy winced again at the sight of the ugly scar, and Aragon quietly whispered  _ ‘dios mío…’ _ under her breath. Anna just shot looks at them all and guided the girl to the couch, and as soon as she settled on the cushions something snapped into place. The tension hanging over the Queens finally dissipated, and everyone breathed a little easier.

“Alright,  _ Königinnen _ ! Sit down, and I’ll explain who she is.” Ignoring Anne’s whisper of ‘what the heck does that even  _ mean- _ ’, Aragon took a seat on the hearth and Jane sunk back into her chair. Anna waited until Anne flopped down onto Aragon’s lap, earning a scowl from the first Queen, and then began.

“Okay, listen. Do any of you know who Katherine Howard is?” Anne gasped and shot up.

“Wait, did you just say Howard? Like my cousin Howard?” Anna nodded. Anne fell backwards, shock coloring her face. Jane blinked, frowning and leaning forward.

“Love, she looks so young… was she really a Queen?”

“Yes. She married him at 16, died at 17. She was beheaded.” 

Anne went quiet. She went limp on Aragon's lap, and the Spanish queen was uncharacteristically silent about it. Cathy was making various odd faces, probably imagining all the ways she could kill Henry VIII. Anna finally sat on the couch, and almost instantly the teen was buried in her side. 

“Now, her getting beheaded was no fault of her own. She was friends with a court member, named Thomas Culpeper, who wanted more of her than she wanted to give.” Aragon had picked up a thin stick of firewood and had started fiddling with it. But when she heard this…

_ SNAP! _

The Spanish Queen stood up, tumbling Anne off her lap with a yelp, and started speaking rapid, angry Spanish that the Queens were 99% sure was not appropriate for Katherine’s ears. After the slew of curses, she raked a hand through her undone curls and sucked air through clenched teeth. Then-

“Y-you actually bel-believe her? You d-don’t think I’m just… b-begging for attent-attention?” Aragon’s hand slowly clenched, her nails digging into her palm.

“Katherine, why would she lie? Henry hurt us all, what reason would she have?” The girl shifted a bit, before poking her head out. Tearstained, broken bluestar eyes peeked out at the Spaniard, fear present.

“F-father told me I w-was looking f-for attention… he just ruffled m-my hair and shoo-shooed me out…” Aragon fell silent again, but anyone that knew her could tell that she was harnessing her anger. Slowly, she crossed the room and kneeled in front of Katherine, gently taking her hand. Making sure that the girl was looking her in the eye, she started speaking.

“Listen,  _ rosa _ . No one here will just ruffle your hair if your worries have any basis. If you’re scared that someone’s broken into the house, we’ll investigate. If you feel like anyone will be rude to you, I’ll yell at them.” The sentiment startled Katherine into giggling. Aragon grinned, before she started again.

“The point is, you won’t need to fear us not listening to you, especially if it might hurt you.” Katherine smiled, before tears slipped out of her eyes again. Wiping them, she pulled in a shaky breath.

“Y-you’re the first o-one to say something l-like that to me…. t-thank you so much!” Aragon’s lips twisted into a delicate smile as she gently patted Katherine’s hand, before pulling away and seating herself back on the hearth. Then Anne piped up from where she was  _ still _ on the floor.

“I have a young, impressionable cousin now… this is gonna be fun!” Cathy groaned loudly.

“Oh my gosh, no. No no no no no. I will not permit you to corrupt her, she is pure and lovable. We don’t need another Boleyn in this household.”   


“I agree with Cathy, love.”   


“Oh come on! Anna! Anna, come on, you know I’m right!”

“Mayhaps.”

“Wha…. what does that mean?”   


“Mayhaps.”   


“Okay…. Hey, how do you speak German?”   


“You combine all the words in the English language to create The Ultimate FrankenWord. But, Anne, I know you’ve taken up Mandarin as a fun thing. How’s that?”   


“Lol, what’s a verb tense?”   


“Did- Did you just say ‘lol’ in conversation?”   


“Yes, yes I did.”

“Idiota.”

*gasp* “Aragon! How do you speak Spanish?”   


“In the wise words of Anne Boleyn, lol, what isn’t a verb tense?”   


“Oh my gosh, Aragon.”   


“Catalina!”

“I GOT THE CATHOLIC ON MY SIDE!”   


“In your dreams, Boleyn.”

None of the queens saw Katherine’s tiny smile as she watched the chaos ensue. Maybe… maybe this would be better. Maybe she’d actually be able to smile everyday.

For some reason, that task seemed a lot less daunting than it had back in court. 

**Author's Note:**

> Writing for SiX is always fun  
> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, leave a comment down below and check out my other SiX stories! (if you want to)  
> See yall around, you beautiful kiwis!


End file.
